


like kintsugi

by Resamille



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically, Canon Compliant, Catharsis, Depression, Grieving, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Working shit out, Wrong Number AU, i think, iwaizumi is a good friend, sorry oiks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 13:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18209045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/pseuds/Resamille
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is a boy who's just trying to grow up and get by, all while thinking he's facing life alone.Kuroo Tetsurou is a boy with a friend with bad handwriting.Somehow, they find each other, and Oikawa Tooru finds himself in the process.





	like kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> let me start off by saying i am so sorry
> 
> not really but also highkey dedicated to idontevenlogic. she had nothing to do with the creation of this fic at all. but this is revenge for all the times you've tortured me with sad haikyuu concepts.
> 
> i haven't proofread any of this lmAO
> 
> also full disclosure i do not have depression/anxiety/anything nearly to the scale Oiks does in this fic and while it was intended to be vent fic its not entirely self-projection, so if there is stuff i get severely wrong please correct me i'll try to fix it uwu  
> that being said please do not refer to this fic whatsoever as a reference to how to deal w/ anyone having suicidal thoughts, dealing with depression, panic attacks, etc. as much as i would like for this to be realistic and at least vaguely accurate, i am not a medical professional and really no one should trust me to do anything ever so definitely do not trust me with shit this serious

There's a voice in Tooru's head.

It sounds a tiny bit like his mom's, but mostly it sounds like his.

In stories and kids' shows, there's always the lesson about how the little voice in your brain that tells you what to do is your conscience.

Tooru does not think that this voice is his conscience.

Your conscience isn't supposed to demand perfection.

Your conscience isn't supposed to tear you into nothing the minute you make the tiniest mistake.

Your conscience isn't supposed to make you want to die.

 

Tooru is thirteen when he has his first panic attack.

Years from now, he won't remember what it's over. Hours from now, he'll berate himself for getting so worked up about something so inconsequential in the end. Minutes from now, he'll be able to breathe normally again.

But right now: Tooru stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling and feels like the weight of tomorrow is sitting on his chest, directly on top of his lungs. His own ambition, his own pride, crushes him. He is scared—

Useless, the little voice in his head says.

Lazy, it echoes.

Worthless, it screams.

Tooru clutches at his sheets, closes his eyes as tight as he can, and pretends that this is what it must be like to be abducted by aliens. Humans, after all, aren't made for tractor beams, so this will all go away once he's on the ship. It's just the tractor beam. It is. It _is_. It must be.

When he opens his eyes, he only sees the glow-in-the-dark stars, casting sickly green down upon his bed.

 

It's the summer before high school when Tooru gets the text.

 _Unsaved:_ u goin 2 practice 2day ??

Tooru glances at it—inconsequential, in comparison to the homework he has to get done during lunch so that he can stay late to practice serves today—and sends back a quick response.

 _Tooru_ : yeah of course

 _Unsaved_ : nice ill head over 2 watch

Tooru's already tossed his phone to the side, gone back to glancing at his English homework and possibly poking Iwaizumi with his pencil too.

He doesn't remember it happened at all until he gets a text later that night, as he's on his way home, well after darkness has fallen.

 _Unsaved_ : liar u werent @ practice

Puzzled, Tooru furrows his brow and stares at the text. Of course he was at practice. Everyone saw him set up that great spike to Iwa-chan that won them the practice match against the other incoming first years.

 _Tooru_ : yeah I was

 _Unsaved_ : u wernt

 _Tooru_ : I was! Ask Iwaizumi

 _Tooru_ : actually maybe don't ask Iwaizumi he'll probably lie because he's a dick

 _Tooru_ : who is this, anyway?

 _Unsaved_ : who the hell is iwaizumi

 _Unsaved_ : who is THIS

 _Tooru_ : I asked first

 _Tooru_ : and iwa-chan is only my best friend

 _Tooru:_ dont tell him that he'll never let me live it down

 _Unsaved_ : who the fuck is iwachan

 _Unsaved_ : i thought i was ur best friend

 _Unsaved:_ wht happened 2 our years of volleyball together bro

 _Tooru_ : I think you have the wrong number

 _Unsaved:_ …tht would explain a lot

 _Tooru_ : I do play volleyball though so you got that right

 _Unsaved_ : so ur not bokuto

 _Tooru_ : who

 _Unsaved_ : im gonna kill that mofo when i see him his handwriting is SHIT

 _Tooru_ : keep me updated I'm emotionally invested now

 

A week later, Tooru gets a text that says, in all caps, “THIS IS NOT A FUCKING 7 BRO” and a picture of a very sloppily written phone number on a torn-off corner of notebook paper. Tooru saves the unknown number on his phone as _Wrong Number Person_.

 

A week later is also, coincidentally, the first time Tooru digs a razor blade into his skin.

 

 _Wrong Number Person_ : so like... volleyball

 _Wrong Number Person_ : how long?

Tooru is in the middle of watching a recording of the team they're going to face against during their first round at the upcoming summer tournament. Oikawa is a starter. Oikawa is the starting setting. It's all he's ever wanted. He keeps telling himself this, even as his breath feels like knives in his lungs.

So maybe that's why he picks up his phone, allowing himself a single moment of distraction. He can't afford it tomorrow, so maybe its best to get rid of all the useless, fleeting thoughts now, if he can.

 _Tooru_ : since I could walk basically

 _Tooru_ : officially in middle school

 _Wrong Number Person_ : ur in high school?

 _Tooru_ : yeah. you?

 _Wrong Number Person_ : same

 _Wrong Number Person_ : i strted when i was a kid 2

 _Tooru_ : cool

 _Wrong Number Person_ : where do you go 2 school?

 _Tooru_ : like I'm telling you

 _Tooru_ : how do I know you're not some manic serial killer

 _Tooru_ : I mean who even keeps talking to people who they accidentally texted??

 _Wrong Number Person_ : ur the 1 who said you wanted to stay updated!

 _Wrong Number Person_ : and i am not a serial killer

 _Tooru_ : that's what a serial killer would say

 _Wrong Number Person_ : :( im just bored n u seem interesting

 _Wrong Number Person_ : i dont get 2 talk 2 people about volleyball v much

Tooru bites his lip. He draws his knees into his chair and rests his chin there while he replies, disregarding the sounds of sneakers on a gym floor playing through his earbuds.

 _Tooru_ : Miyagi. Thats all youre getting

 _Wrong Number Person_ : :D

 _Wrong Number Person_ : im in tokyo

 _Wrong Number Person_ : Miyagi has ushiwaka in its block rite?

 _Tooru_ : yeah...

 _Wrong Number Person_ : yikes. good luck.

 _Wrong Number Person_ : unless u r ushiwaka

 _Wrong Number Person_ : r u

 _Tooru_ : I'm not Ushiwaka

 _Tooru_ : Ushiwaka can suck my dick

 _Wrong Number Person_ : thats the spirit!

 _Wrong Number Person_ : i gotta go but can i talk 2 u later?

 _Wrong Number Person_ : aka pls dont block me i just want a frend

 _Tooru_ : idk youve been pretty sketchy

 _Tooru_ : i wont block you if you tell me what position you play

 _Wrong Number Person_ : any position u want ;)

 _Wrong Number Person_ : oh god im sorry reflex that was so bad im sorry

 _Wrong Number Person_ : middle blocker

 _Wrong Number Person_ : pls dont hate me

 _Tooru_ : more like middle BLOCKED

Tooru is definitely not smiling at his phone, laughter caught in his throat. Definitely not.

 _Wrong Number Person_ : D:

 _Tooru_ : kidding. That was pretty funny.

 _Tooru_ : youre safe from loneliness for now

 _Tooru_ : setter.

Tooru changes the name in his phone to _Dumb Middle Blocker_.

 

Seijoh wins the game. But Tooru rolls his ankle during their second match-up, has to sit out for the next round. They make it through, but only barely. And by the time they face Shiratorizawa, Tooru is blazing with enough fury to feel no pain, but his team has been beaten down to exhaustion. And as much as his will carries them through, it's not enough.

Shiratorizawa wins, two to zero. Seijoh never made it past twenty points.

 

Sometimes its so, so easy—to look and laugh and feel as if you're okay, as if you're _living—_ and then the moment everyone turns away, the facade drops.

“Are you staying late tomorrow, too?” Iwaizumi asks, a half-scowl inching onto his expression.

“No,” Tooru answers easily, smile sliding across his lips. “I've learned my lesson about overworking myself, Iwa-chan. You don't have to baby me.”

Iwaizumi's half-scowl turns into a full scowl. Or, at least three quarters. “Get some rest.”

“Iwa-chan, you sound like my mom,” Tooru complains. But that's not true at all because Tooru's mom always sounds like _did you get a perfect score on your test? Are you still thinking of doing volleyball all through high school? Have you given any more thought into becoming a doctor?_

Iwaizumi growls. “I'm not your mom,” he snaps. “I don't wanna see you get hurt again, you ass.” With that, he turns and stalks away, down the street, to the house that Tooru half grew up in. Iwaizumi is the brother he never had.

But as soon as Iwaizumi's back is turned, Tooru feels his face drop. Being happy, _pretending to be happy_ , just feels so... heavy. It weighs his bones, limits the reach of his muscles. And yet, reaching for the door to his house, despite only carrying the brunt of his own melancholy, Tooru still feels like its too hard to move.

“I'm home,” Tooru calls into the quiet house.

“Tooru,” he hears a shaky call.

He's in the process of taking off his shoes when his mother comes to greet him. There's a listlessness to her movements that is usually only attributed to the lost and bone-weary. She's crying, tears slipping continuously down her cheeks.

“Mom?” Tooru asks.

She swallows hard, and doesn't meet his eyes. “Your father is dead.”

 

The first stage of grief is denial.

Tooru goes to school the next day, willing himself to carry on. He can't break down over this. He can't afford to. Too much rides on a single day—tests, practice, his own sanity barely clutching to routine as a means of pushing forward.

But he can't focus, can't play, and definitely can't pretend anymore.

“Oikawa!” snaps his coach. “Are you going to play the game in front of you or not?”

Tooru glances towards the sidelines, and then back to the game. He feels something in him crumble. Willpower or the walls he'd used to keep the tears in. Instead of answering, he walks off the court, out of the gym.

He's still in his practice clothes, and autumn chill blows gooseflesh across his exposed skin.

Iwaizumi follows him out a moment later. He starts to say something, angry, and then sees Tooru crying. His voice cuts into something soothing, concerned. “What happened?”

Tooru takes a moment to choke on a sob, and he reaches for Iwaizumi.

Automatically, Iwaizumi goes to him, wrapping him in a hug.

“My d-dad died,” Tooru whispers, hiccuping against Iwaizumi's shoulders.

And suddenly, its real. Suddenly there's the weight of his mother's expectations, dragging him down. Suddenly, there's all he'll miss about his dad at the forefront of his mind. Suddenly, there's Iwaizumi crying, too.

Tooru's fingers itch for a blade. His skin craves it. Let the pain bleed out of him.

“Fuck, Tooru,” Iwaizumi says.

They clutch at each other, and then, eventually, Iwaizumi peels himself away. Tooru stays outside, shivering, while Iwaizumi storms back into the gym—still crying—and comes back out with their stuff. Together, they stumble home.

Together, Iwaizumi pulls Tooru into his room. Together, they fall asleep on Tooru's bed, under a sky of glow-in-the-dark stars, faces swollen from tears. Together, they mourn, for there is nothing else to do.

And, in the middle of the night, Tooru slips away from Iwaizumi. He feels like he should be a child, sleeping in the same bed as Iwaizumi once again. But he is not a child. He is on the edge of adulthood, on the edge of responsibility, and already it crushes him.

He pads quietly into the bathroom, stares at himself in the mirror, and wonders if they have enough painkillers in the house to end it all now.

 _We don't_ , says the voice in his head, _you already checked_.

 

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : hey

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : how do u like... get ppl who hate doin anything 2 do... something

Tooru emerges from a haze of staring at his ceiling. How long had he been spaced out like that? It's dark outside, now. Maybe it was dark already when he got to his room. He doesn't remember now.

 _Tooru_ : what

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : like... how do u convince friends to do stuff they dont wanna do

 _Tooru_ : cry

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : i tried that but kenma knows im full of shit so it dont work

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : any other ideas

 _Tooru_ : bribes

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : might work

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : anyway

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : hows volleyball did you go to interhigh

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : if i look at the lineups do you think id find you

Tooru doesn't have the energy for this. He wants to sleep. And sleep, and not get up.

 _Tooru_ : maybe. we lost in the 3rd round

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : boo

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : we didn't do super great either

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : i only played a little bit. third years get all the game time

 _Tooru_ : i played starter and im a 1st year

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : WHAT

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : no way!!!

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : youre shittin me

Tooru can't help the tug of happiness in his heart. Iwaizumi is a starter, too, most of the time, so bragging doesn't get anywhere with him. It feels good to be... impressive. To be praised.

 _Tooru_ : not shitting you

 _Tooru_ : I got the best setter award last year

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : what the hell i didnt kno i was talking to a prodigy

 _Tooru_ : I'm not a prodigy

 _Tooru_ : I just worked really hard

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : thats crazy dude

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : congrats

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but also like... take care of urself

 _Tooru_ : yeah

 _Tooru_ : easier said than done

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : any hopes 4 spring interhigh?

Nerves run through Tooru, and suddenly, even though its still autumn, the threat of the spring tournament looms too-close. He drops his phone, ignoring the text, and gets up for possibly the first time in days.

He's missed school, for the funeral, for his grief.

He can't afford to lose time.

He can't. He can't.

There's work he has to get done—schoolwork, rewatching the recordings from the last tournament. All the games, all the mistakes. He has to fix those, before spring. Before he faces Shiratorizawa again.

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : u there??

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : sorry if i said somethin

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : ur probably super busy mr best setter

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : so sorry for bothering u

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but also its like midnight go to sleep

Tooru is in the process of climbing out of bed, cold sweat sticking to his neck, reaching for his desk to look for the homework that Iwaizumi had dropped off. He hesitates, when his phone vibrates in quick succession, and—and actually reads the texts. He sits down in his desk chair, landing hard, and waits for his brain to catch up.

It's midnight, on a school night. The world can wait another day for him, like Atlas, to bear it on his shoulders.

For now, something else: Tooru strips from his clothes, goes to shower.

He expects his mom to yell at him for waking her up, running the water. But instead, he finds her downstairs in the kitchen. When Tooru walks in, the first thing she does is hug him.

It's been so long, since Tooru's felt like a child.

“Do you want something to eat?” his mother asks.

“Yes, please,” Tooru says, and decides that, for tonight, he is allowed to be young. Allowed to be a boy.

Tomorrow, he'll grow up again.

 

It's the second loss to Shiratorizawa that does it.

Tooru feels like a dragon—anger flaring in his chest like fire—every time he steps into the gym to practice after the spring tournament.

Iwaizumi, next to him, is practically breathing smoke.

While the rest of the team, especially the third years, lapse into lethargy, Tooru and Iwaizumi drive themselves into the ground.

They didn't loose, specifically, because of a bad serve from Tooru, but a point is a point no matter when in the game its lost or gained. A single point can win a match. It doesn't matter that Seijou never went to deuce with Shiratorizawa. It doesn't matter that a single point didn't make a difference. It will, someday.

So Tooru burns with the fire of a dragon, a great beast curled around an ancient castle. He practices his serves. Iwaizumi is already carved into his bones, written into his skin, for as long as they've played together, but the rest of his team—he doesn't know them, not yet.

So he learns. Tooru convinces a couple of the other first years to join him and Iwaizumi in their relentless practice. Tooru does what he can, and learns his teammates, if they'll let him.

Hanamaki is skittish, but sly. He has potential, if only Tooru can draw it out of him. There's a dedication in Hanamaki's gaze that says he won't back down in a fight. Perhaps he could someday be someone Tooru relies on as much as Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa is stoic, seemingly apathetic. Tooru couldn't be more wrong in that assumption. He's driven, underneath the quiet exterior. Already, Tooru's mind is working towards a day when he calls the shots, when he can place Matsukawa on the court like the queen on a chess board. A powerful weapon.

But even more surprising, Tooru begins to see them as friends. They stick together during lunch, coax Tooru out of doing his homework to instead climb up to the roof where they're definitely not supposed to be and laugh at the wind in their faces. It's draining, maybe, but part of him feels such relief, to have found people who are starting to feel like a home.

And, then, of course, it all goes wrong.

Because Tooru gets himself hurt.

When Hanamaki and Matsukawa and Iwaizumi come to visit him, bedridden, his knee wrapped carefully in compression tape, instead of friends, Tooru only sees the people he's disappointed.

 

Tooru stares at his ceiling, restless and frustrated. His mom won't let him move, even though he's fucking _fine_ and it's not even that bad and he can walk _fine_ so there's no reason to keep him locked up in his room.

He wants to scream. Wants to hit something. Wants to cry. Wants to turn his fingers into claws and tear his way out of his own skin because he hates feeling useless.

 _It's your fault_ , says a voice in his head. This time, it sounds suspiciously like Iwaizumi. _You shouldn't have overworked yourself_.

Then, in a voice that is distinctly Not Iwaizumi: _Maybe you should just die, instead? So much better than wasting oxygen, doing nothing with your life. Worthless. Useless._

Angry, shaking, Tooru reaches for his phone. A distraction. Anything.

 _Tooru_ : say something stupid and funny

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : did you know cats have spiky dicks

 _Tooru_ : perfect thanks

 _Tooru_ : also disgusting

 _Tooru_ : why????

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : helps to keep the female cat around

 _Tooru_ : I feel like there's a consent issue here

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : im mostly sure cats dont have a concept of consent

 _Tooru_ : when did you upgrade to actually typing out words instead of using numbers

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : what

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : oh

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : you see

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : my best friend

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : actually wait

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : well

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : one of my best friends

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : said tht i texted like i never passed an english class in my life and still thought i was hot shit enough to get into anyone's pants

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : and then immediately after my other best friend called me asking where to meet up bc hed gone to the wrong address bc i typed “go 2” and he cant read for shit

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : basically there was an intervention

 _Tooru_ : wow

 _Toor_ _u_ : I cant believe your mom lets you have TWO best friends

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : was that a joke

 _Tooru_ : yes

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : im impressed

 _Tooru_ : ive made jokes before

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : yes but usually about blocking me

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : so im impressed you have a sense of humor that doesnt include threats

 _Tooru_ : not my fault youre sketchy

 _Tooru_ : in my defense until now you always text like youve never passed an english class, think youre hot shit, and want to get in my pants

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : hey >:(

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : ive only used 1 pickup line on you

 _Tooru_ : how merciful

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : ill have you know youd be swooning if i was really tryin to get in your pants

 _Tooru_ : i dont swoon

 _Tooru_ : try me

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : hold on a mans gotta prepare

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : you cant just spring that shit on me

 _Tooru_ : so what youre telling me is you got nothing

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : no

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : maybe

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : did you fall from heaven

 _Tooru_ : boo. overused. next.

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : >:(

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : are you from nashville

 _Tooru_ : nashville???

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : because

 _Tooru_ : no wait i got it thats terrible

 _Tooru_ : next

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : tough crowd

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : i got 1 >:3

 _Tooru_ : did you just >:3 at me

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : your balls are the best on the court

Tooru takes a moment to process, feels his cheeks heat up, and then he's _cackling_. Its loud and ugly and drives most of the bad thoughts to the back of his mind.

 _Tooru_ : ohmy GOD

 _Tooru_ : that's HORRID

 _Tooru_ : but 11/10 for originality and accounting for your audience

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : you say that but i also just assumed you have balls tbh so i had like a 50% chance of being completely off base

 _Tooru_ : i do have balls you nailed it

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : cool i also have balls

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : ball buddies

 _Tooru_ : dont say that

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : did you swoon

 _Tooru_ : not a bit

 _Tooru_ : but it was hilarious

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : damn

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : humor has to count for somethin rite

 _Tooru_ : rite

 _Tooru_ : what happened to turning over a new, correctly-spelled leaf?

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : old habits die hard

 _Tooru_ : humor doesn't count

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : fine ill take the originality award

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but its basically a participation award and i am in no way satisfied

 _Tooru_ : listen I hate to break it to you but

 _Tooru_ : I really dont think anyone you use these on is going to leave satisfied, either

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : that is LOW

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : maybe the cats have the system figured out

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : maybe i should become a cat

 _Tooru_ : aside from the consent issues

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : you right

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : if i was a cat i would make sure any willing partners consented

 _Tooru_ : I cant tell if this is a good measure of your character or not

 _Tooru_ : im also pretty sure this is the weirdest conversation ive had in my life

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : ive had weirder

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : best friend #2 has zero brain-to-mouth filter and probably ADD tbh

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but hey its never boring when hes around

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : anyway is something up you usually dont text me

 _Tooru_ : nothings wrong

Tooru stares at his response. And then panics that the conversation will die out if he leaves it at that.

 _Tooru_ : well i got hurt

 _Tooru_ : practiced jump serves too much and fucked up my knee

 _Tooru_ : my mom is keeping me bedridden for the week basically

 _Tooru_ : you seemed like a good distraction

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : happy to provide

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : i take it from the self-destructive tendencies that spring interhigh didnt go too well

 _Tooru_ : ushiwaka bent us sideways and fucked us

 _Tooru_ : I hate him

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : my sympathies

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : honestly i feel pretty lucky not having to go up against ushiwaka so early

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : tho not to brag

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but best friend #2 is gonna be a great wing spiker someday

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : so ill have to go up against him eventually

 _Tooru_ : if he isnt great already I dont think he has a chance of catching up to ushiwaka

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : hes good

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : like hella good

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : but he doesnt have great mental game

 _Tooru_ : find him a teammate who can ground him

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : well see

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : im hoping the incoming 1st years will redo his team dynamic n maybe stop letting himself get in his own head so much

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : tbh im just excited for the 1st years to get here in general

 _Tooru_ : why?

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : aside from the fact i will finally have young fledglings to take under my wing

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : best friend #1 is a year behind

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : im trying to convince him to play setter

 _Tooru_ : ill see him on the court sometime then

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : if we ever go up against you youre going down

 _Tooru_ : yeah right

 _Tooru_ : best setter award remember

 _Tooru_ : and my best friend is gonna be our teams ace next year

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : that a challenge

 _Tooru_ : hell yeah

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : how do i know if we ever play each other

 _Tooru_ : good point

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : its okay itll just be a challenge in spirit

 _Tooru_ : seijou

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : what

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : wait

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : like aoba jousai?

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : no way

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : i feel honored with this information

Tooru wonders if he's made a terrible mistake.

Well, if a serial killer gets to him before his own brain does, maybe that's a good thing.

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts.

 _Tooru_ : yes aoba jousai

 _Tooru_ : uh

 _Tooru_ : what about you

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : what

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : oh sorry

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : nekoma

 _Tooru_ : isnt nekoma like a tokyo powerhouse

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : maybe kinda yeah

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : powerhouse my ass tho i never get to play

 _Tooru_ : get good then

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : >:(

 _Tooru_ : we gotta promise to not look each other up on the roster

 _Tooru_ : thats like cheating

 _Tooru_ : we'll meet when we play each other

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : deal

 _Dumb Middle Blocker_ : one day were gonna both be captains of our teams and were gonna have a whole showndown and everything just you wait

 _Tooru_ : looking forward to it

Tooru changes the name in his phone to _Future Nekoma Captain_. And then he realizes something else.

This is a plan that branches out—perhaps as long as the next two years.

Tooru has the sudden realization that he'd never really... planned anything that far ahead. His focus isn't even really the next tournament. It's only to the dawn of tomorrow: whether or not he has to practice, whether or not he has to survive. Something in him feels distinctly satisfied by the existence of this new goal.

Something to look forward to with happiness instead of dread.

He's never really—had that before.

 

It's midsummer. The only stress in Tooru's life is volleyball practice. It shouldn't be stress at all.

And yet, here he is, fingers shaking with adrenaline as he bandages a new cut, high on his thigh where it won't be visible under his shorts.

Tooru always feels like everything's a little clearer after he slices through his own skin, watches the blood drip down the shower drain in slender rivulets. How odd, that its all so clandestine. He hides and he fakes and he pretends, just too keep everyone from hearing his cry for help.

Is that what it is? A cry for help?

Tooru would like to say that if there was a way to get help, he'd take it, gladly.

But he's not sure if that's true.

There's fear, buzzing under his skin. Maybe it's fear of how people will see him—with pity, patronizing gazes cast upon the scars tucked under his shorts. Or maybe it's the fear of being fixed.

Because that would be admitting that he's broken.

Oikawa Tooru is not broken.

He's come too far to be shattered into pieces. He's come too far to be crushed by the world. He's come to far to take his own life.

Wishful thinking.

But he's not broken, he insists. He can't really be. Because the little voice in his head tells him that all the time, and Tooru knows that the little voice lies. So he can't be broken.

But... this can't be normal, right?

This can't just be how life is—Tooru won't survive another year of this.

Tooru picks up his phone, drying blood on his fingers.

 _Tooru_ : I think somethings wrong with me

It's past midnight.

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : what troubles you my friend

Tooru's fingers shake as he types. He's not sure if its just the adrenaline from pain anymore.

 _Tooru_ : I think im broken

 _Tooru_ : but I cant be because I know thats a lie

 _Tooru_ : but I need to be fixed

 _Tooru_ : I dont know how

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : sorry what

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : fixed??

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : what's wrong??

Tooru takes in a shuddering breath. Presses send. Even Iwaizumi doesn't know this.

 _Tooru_ : I cut myself

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : ?? did you patch it up??

 _Tooru_ : ive been doing it for years

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : oh shit

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : shit

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : okay im a dumbass I get it now

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : im also pretty sure this is significantly above my pay grade but im gonna try here okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : uhhhh

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : why do you do it?

 _Tooru_ : idk

 _Tooru_ : sorry

 _Tooru_ : idk

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : no no its okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : stay with me buddy

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : are you safe

 _Tooru_ : yes

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : okay think about that

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : youre okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : is it because of stress?

 _Tooru_ : I think so

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : is there anything else you do to deal with stress?

 _Tooru_ : idk

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : okay whats something that makes you happy

 _Tooru_ : volleyball ?

 _Tooru_ : milk bread

 _Tooru_ : iwaizumi

 _Tooru_ : you

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : okay that's a good list

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : add some more things too if you want

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : how about you write that list down somewhere

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : and next time you feel like hurting yourself look at that list

 _Tooru_ : okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : promise to do that for me buddy?

 _Tooru_ : yeah

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : and if you still hurt yourself its okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : no one will be mad

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : just look at your list first and then decide what youre gonna do

 _Tooru_ : okay

 _Tooru_ : okay

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : do you have someone who can take care of you right now?

 _Tooru_ : no

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : will you be okay alone?

Tooru takes a deep breath. It doesn't rattle in his chest so much.

 _Tooru_ : I think so

 

 _Tooru_ : thank you

 _Tooru_ : for the other night

 _Tooru_ : sorry to dump my shit on you

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : its not a big deal dude

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : but uh... sorry bout this but

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : I think your shit needs a lot more than any help I could give

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : I was making it up as I went based on google

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : so like... maybe its time to stop fighting on your own yknow

 _Tooru_ : yeah...

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : ill be here

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : if you ever need me

 _Tooru_ : thank you

 _Tooru_ : it really does mean a lot

 _Tooru_ : even coming from you

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : what does THAT mean?

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : is it because of the cat penis thing I swear im better than that

 _Tooru_ : its definitely because of the cat penis thing

 

Iwaizumi holds Tooru's hand, like he used to when they were little kids.

“Whatever it is,” Iwaizumi had said. “I'm with you. You're not alone.”

Tooru didn't know how much he needed to hear those words.

He always thought that when Iwaizumi found out that it'd be some dramatic reveal. Iwaizumi would walk in on him changing at some point, and finally notice the litany of scars written across Tooru's thighs. Tooru hadn't expected it to be spoken into existence on a peaceful night walking home from practice together.

He hadn't expected himself to be brave enough.

Suddenly, it's much easier, to be brave, when Iwaizumi is with him.

His mother is there, too, staving off the cold taste of the waiting room with the warmth of her presence. Idly, she points out a cute cat picture she found on her phone, and Tooru feels some of the tension bleed out of him.

“Oikawa Tooru?” someone calls. Their scrubs have various cacti on them, cartoonishly drawn in vibrant greens.

Tooru stands, and Iwaizumi trails after him.

“Can I—” Iwaizumi starts.

“I'm sorry,” says the nurse, looking genuinely sympathetic. She smiles softly at Tooru. “But it's better for you to meet with the doctor alone, for the first time. Right now, we're just going to talk, okay? No medical stuff. Just a conversation. Afterward, your friend can come in.”

Tooru nods.

Iwaizumi squeezes his hand, and then lets go.

“Scream if they're actually aliens going to abduct you,” Iwaizumi says.

Tooru snorts out half a laugh. “If they're aliens, I'm gonna let them.”

Iwaizumi grins at him, a little crooked and concerned, but it's a real grin. Tooru manages a real smile, tentative and small, right back at him.

“Okay,” he says to the nurse. “We can go.”

“They'll be waiting right out here until you're done,” says the nurse. “You're not alone.”

 

There are still days when Tooru can't get out of bed.

It's okay. He's not broken.

There are still days when Tooru feels nothing.

It's okay. He's not broken.

There are still days when Tooru feels like his skin is crawling.

It's okay. He's not broken.

There are still days that depression or anxiety or a mixture of both get the better of him.

But it's okay. Because Tooru isn't alone.

He has volleyball, and milk bread, and Iwaizumi, and a guardian angel.

 

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : guess what BITCH

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : youre looking

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : well not looking

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : whATEVER

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : I GOT VOTED CAPTAIN

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : THE PROPHECY IS COMING TRUE

 _Tooru_ : you're such a dumbass oh my GOD

 _Tooru_ : congratulations!!!

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : what about you?? news???

 _Tooru_ : :))

 _Tooru_ : the prophecy is coming true

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : yES

 _Future Nekoma Captain_ : you're gonna go DOWN

 _Tooru_ : no way

 _Tooru_ : we're gonna crush you

Tooru changes the name on his phone to _Nekoma Captain_. And then he gets back to practice, setting for Matsukawa. They need to beat Shiratorizawa to take on Nekoma, so they have to take them down this year, or they don't have any more chances. And Tooru's brat of a understudy went to Karasuno, so he has to watch out for them, too.

But really? Tooru likes their chances. Seijou is his team.

More than that: his family.

When he steps back onto the court, the entire gym turns to look at their captain. Tooru simmers with pride.

Immediately, Iwaizumi throws a volleyball at him, hitting his shoulder.

“Ow! Iwa-chan!” Tooru cries.

“Get your head out of your ass and get back to practice,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I don't know why we voted you captain when your ego was already too big to fit in the gym.”

Tooru sticks his tongue out at Iwaizumi. “You're just jealous because all the girls fall for the captain of the team.”

“Ha,” Hanamaki says, dry. “The girls are just all over you because they want your secret skincare routine.”

“My beauty is entirely natural,” Tooru huffs.

“And I'm Godzilla,” Iwaizumi growls. “Spike for me.”

“You are Godzilla,” Tooru agrees. “Such a brute.”

Iwaizumi raises another volleyball threateningly.

“Okay! Okay!” Tooru squeaks. “I'm going!”

 

Tooru can't go in yet. There's so much noise, in the gym, so much pressure, so many past failures staring him in the face.

So he lingers outside, a moment longer. Iwaizumi lets him get away with it. Because Iwaizumi knows far more than Tooru wishes he did. But Iwaizumi will cover for him.

His hand shakes as he clutches tight to a bottle of pills. He was going to try to _not_ use them. And he did try. He did. But he can't do this alone anymore, not with the way the stress of life and growing up and _existing_ has left cracks in his soul. So what if he needs some glue to put himself back together?

He nearly chokes, swallowing down a pill, when he hears someone call out to him.

Tooru coughs hoarsely as one of Shiratorizawa's middle blockers saunters up to him, all too-long limbs and fiery hair.

“Whatcha got?” purrs Tendou. “Though it was illegal to use drugs on the court. Might explain some of your game sense.”

Tooru narrows his gaze. “What do you want?”

Tendou grins. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants. “Just a shame, seeing you stoop so low.” Then, louder: “It would be a pity if word got out, about Seijoh's setter, using—”

A hand claps over Tendou's mouth, sufficiently muffling him. His eyes go wide—Tooru's too.

Because it's Ushiwaka, standing there, a hand covering Tendou's mouth to keep him from being the bastard he naturally is. “They're anxiety medication,” Ushiwaka says simply. “Go inside and stretch.”

They leave. Tooru stares after them, stunned.

He wants to be mad about it, too. Wants to hate Ushiwaka in every encounter they have, because, so far, everything Ushiwaka has said to Tooru has left the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Until now.

So he wants to hate Ushiwaka for stepping in, but in reality, he doesn't.

Instead, he pockets the bottle of pills, takes a deep breath, and steps onto the court for the last time.

 

When Karasuno takes Seijou out of the running before they even have a chance to take down Shiratorizawa, Tooru is crushed.

The entire team is.

 _You let them down_ , says the little voice in his head.

But the little voice lies, and Tooru does his best to never listen.

“It's been an honor, serving as your captain,” Tooru says, through his tears.

By the time they leave the gym, for the last time, the entire team is sobbing. Even Kyoutani.

At some point, Yahaba latches onto Tooru like he doesn't want him to leave.

Tooru wraps his arms around Yahaba, kisses his forehead, and whispers, “You better fucking take care of them, got it?”

Yahaba nods vigorously, face mushed into Tooru's shoulder. “And you better fucking take care of yourself.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Tooru says, but he's crying again, so it comes out sounding a lot less cool than he wanted it to.

 _You let them down_ , says the little voice in his head.

But Tooru watches as Yahaba rallies the second and first years together and only feels pride. These are not people that Tooru has disappointed.

This is a legacy.

 

 _Nekoma Captain_ : so no showdown

 _Tooru_ : oh well

 _Nekoma Captain_ : and no more high school, either

 _Tooru_ : Im gonna need a new contact name for you

 _Nekoma Captain_ : what is it now?

 _Tooru_ : nekoma captain

 _Nekoma Captain_ : oh yeah

 _Nekoma Captain_ : probably gonna need to change that hm

 _Nekoma Captain_ : tetsurou

 _Nekoma Captain_ : first name

 _Tooru_ : tooru

 _Nekoma Captain_ : no quip about be potentially being a serial killer?

 _Tooru_ : dude

 _Tooru_ : you've talked me down from the ledge at 3am too many times for me to think you still want me dead

 _Tooru_ : maybe once things settle in college we can meet

 _Nekoma Captain_ : id like that

 _Tooru_ : youre going in my contacts as tetsu because thats much cuter than tetsurou

 _Nekoma Captain_ : youre so rude

 _Tooru_ : <3

Tooru changes the name in his contacts to _Tetsu_.

 _Tetsu_ : <3

 

There's a new kid in Tooru's class.

It's only the second lecture in the semester of Tooru's first year of college in Tokyo. It's not unreasonable for there to be students getting into the course late. By all accounts, Tooru shouldn't notice him, really. It's a huge class, full of bright-eyed incoming freshman. Probably going to be hard as shit to weed out the weaklings. Tooru himself is just a body in a sea of carbon-copy faces.

But Tooru would like to think he would have noticed someone that cute the last time they met for lecture.

The student is standing at the front of the class, talking to the professor, and Tooru watches from his seat in the invisible middle of the room. The student turns, glancing at the slowly-filling lecture hall, and Tooru catches a glimpse of a half-smile, white teeth peeking out from the slant of his lips.

And Tooru is content to spend the few blissful minutes before lecture completely spaced out, dreaming about the cutie he's staring at across the room.

Except, then the cutie opens his mouth.

“Hey everyone!” he calls to the now nearly full room. “My name's Kuroo. I'm here to take a couple of minutes to talk to you all about mental health.”

Immediately, the cuteness is gone in Tooru's mind. He rolls his eyes. He has to swallow down the urge to sigh dramatically.

The student—the not-cutie—drones on for a few minutes. _A healthy sleep schedule can help combat shutdowns and procrastination! Exercise encourages your body to create endorphins, combating depressive episodes. Doing a little bit is always better than doing nothing, so start with something easy and work your way up!_

It's the same shit. The same “solutions” that everyone who _doesn't_ have depression swears by. This kid might as well be asking the class _have you tried yoga_?

Tooru's been awake for less than an hour and already he wants to go back to sleep. Maybe he can forget this ever happened.

“College is a stressful time, especially for us first years, so it's important to maintain good self-care throughout the semester,” the student is saying, smiling as he brushes his hair away from his face. He looks like he just rolled out of bed and didn't even bother looking in the mirror once before he came here.

“So if you're ever having trouble, don't be afraid to stop by the campus mental health center! Or, if you're interested in helping us encourage good mental health on campus, you can join the students for a healthy campus organization. Our next meeting is tomorrow at six in the student activity center. Thanks for listening! Do you guys have any questions? I'll take any feedback you have for me, too.”

Tooru doesn't know why he does it. Maybe he just hates not being the center of attention. Maybe it's just because he's so tired of hearing the same useless crap.

He raises his hand.

The student points him out. “Yeah, what's up?”

“It's all bullshit,” Tooru states.

The student falters. “S-sorry?”

“It's bullshit,” Tooru repeats.

Kuroo—his name suddenly comes back to Tooru—blinks at him. He hesitates, seemingly grasping for something to say that's on-script. “Everything I said has been scientifically proven as techniques that help—”

“Sure,” Tooru says offhandedly. “You do enough random studies, you'll get a winner eventually. Or you use techniques so outdated that they don't really apply anymore. Or you ignore the fact that so many people go undiagnosed because they think that that's just how life is.

“But exercise doesn't help when you can't bring yourself to get out of bed for the fourth day in a row. Sleep works wonders—until you spend forty-eight hours straight sleeping, pretending that if you just stay unconscious, maybe then you'll never have to face tomorrow. And what about when there's so many things you're responsible for that even thinking about your future crushes the air from your lungs?”

Tooru takes a deep breath. He feels his heart hammering in his chest. He didn't really mean to get this aggressive, but now he's here.

“You can share as many 'quick-fixes' to depression as you'd like, but its not something you can cure. It's something you have to live with, and you learn to live with it, or you don't live at all. I'm tired of people trying to tell me how to cope when they're not the ones who have had to struggle to wake up every day of their lives.”

There's silence for a moment. One student in the back lets out a low whistle. The person sitting next to Tooru breathes out a quiet _damn_.

Kuroo watches him. His smile is gone now, replaced with something neutral and solemn. “I think,” he says slowly, tasting the words. “That you should be careful to assume what people have been through. We all always think that we have it the worst.” He pauses, and in the time it takes Tooru to feel sharp anger cross his mind, Kuroo's talking again. “But I agree that many of this rhetoric comes from a biased perspective.”

And then the smile is back—not as wide as it was before, but soft and inviting and kind. “If you're willing, I'd love to talk to you sometime to get some ideas for improving these presentations. If you have any suggestions, I want to include them.”

Tooru's anger fizzles to nothing. Confusion, maybe. “What?”

“You don't have to,” Kuroo says. “You're not obligated to educate those around you by any means. But if you'd like to help...”

“I—uh—” Tooru fumbles. His words crash together. “I can't, sorry.”

“That's fine,” Kuroo says, still smiling. “If anyone has any other thoughts, feel free to share. Otherwise, I'll get out of here so you can get back to class.”

Silence.

“Thank you, Kuroo,” says the professor, as Kuroo heads for the door. “You did great.”

The professor turns to the class. He finds Tooru—no longer invisible in the middle of the room, hidden among a sea of students. “If you're that sharp with your fellow freshmen, you better be damn good in my class, kid.”

Tooru mumbles out a _yes, sir_ , and sinks as low in his seat as he can.

 

 _Tetsu_ : ugh

Tooru glances at his phone, sees who the text is from, and ignores it.

 _Tetsu_ : uGH

Tooru pointedly stares at the textbook he's reading. Definitely doesn't reread the same sentence for the third time.

 _Tetsu_ : UGHHHH

Sighing, Tooru closes the textbook and reaches for his phone.

 _Tooru_ : I thought I was the dramatic one

 _Tetsu_ : Eat my ass, you knock-off theater kid

 _Tooru_ : who shit in your breakfast

 _Tetsu_ : some kid in the class I was presenting to

 _Tooru_ : presenting?? three days into the semester?

 _Tetsu_ : it was a club thing not a class thing

 _Tetsu_ : idk man I was just pretty hyped for it

 _Tetsu_ : I thought I told you about it

 _Tooru_ : no clue what you're talking about

 _Tetsu_ : must have been Kenma

 _Tooru_ : how rude

 _Tooru_ : confusing me with best friend #1

 _Tetsu_ : that ass-eating offer still stands

 _Tooru_ : you don't shower after volleyball practice, so no thanks

 _Tetsu_ : that was ONE time

 _Tetsu_ : anyway can I complain at you

 _Tooru_ : sure

 _Tooru_ : its not like I have any other pressing matters to attend to

 _Tetsu_ : thanks boo you da best

 _Tooru_ : did you really just...

 _Tetsu_ : yeah it was already bad when I sent it lets forget that ever happened

 _Tetsu_ : anyway I was in charge of working on this presentation over the summer to present to a bunch of the freshman classes right

 _Tooru_ : wait hold up

 _Tooru_ : how'd you end up in charge of this over the summer

 _Tetsu_ : I got super invested at orientation I guess

 _Tetsu_ : actually you kinda inspired me

 _Tooru_ : what

 _Tooru_ : me?? how

 _Tetsu_ : they did this whole... mental health presentation in orientation I kept thinking about all the stuff you text me about and all the shit you go through and I was inspired to help out

 _Tetsu_ : make a difference in the world and all that shit

 _Tetsu_ : I guess I just want to help people

 _Tooru_ : okay. Sure. I'll bite

 _Tetsu_ : okay so anyway I did my research and I redid the entire presentation and the advisors thought it was great and everything

 _Tetsu_ : but then the first time I presented it someone in the class said the entire thing was bullshit and went off on me

Tooru's blood runs cold.

 _Tetsu_ : which like... okay I get it. I'm pretty ignorant and neurotypical and shit right, and he seemed super knowledgeable so I wanted to ask him questions

 _Tetsu_ : but then he like... shut down and said he couldn't give me any feedback

 _Tetsu_ : it just sucks

 _Tetsu_ : I was just hoping like... at least if I failed, I'd learn something from it yknow?

Tooru's mouth feels dry.

 _Tooru_ : yeah...

 _Tooru_ : quick question

 _Tooru_ : whats your full name

 _Tetsu_ : are you trying to cheer me up or something with trust

 _Tooru_ : something like that

 _Tetsu_ : Kuroo Tetsurou

 _Tooru_ : I am so sorry

 _Tetsu_ : what??

Tooru licks his lips. He swallows, and wonders how the fuck this happened.

 _Tooru_ : I'm the asshole kid

 _Tetsu_ : WHAT

 _Tooru_ : that, or this is one fucking hell of a coincidence

 _Tetsu_ : you BITCH

 _Tetsu_ : you're making it up to me

 _Tooru_ : I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you!

 _Tooru_ : also what the fuck dude you're cute as shit

 _Tetsu_ : don't you DARE try to get out of this using compliments

 _Tetsu_ : but thank you

 _Tetsu_ : you're helping me fix that presentation you absolute dick

 _Tetsu_ : that's the punishment for shitting on me in front of 200 freshmen

 _Tooru_ : I'm SORRY

 _Tetsu_ : you are so lucky I didn't bite your head off

 _Tetsu_ : I worked so hard on that

 _Tooru_ : it wasn't that bad really

 _Tetsu_ : No. No backtracking now you sniveling bastard

 _Tooru_ : sniveling??

 _Tooru_ : SNIVELING??

 _Tetsu_ : We're meeting for coffee. You're helping me fix the damn thing. You're paying.

Tooru sighs.

 _Tooru_ : I suppose that's fair

 _Tooru_ : fine

 _Tooru_ : saturday?

 _Tetsu_ : yeah sure

 _Tetsu_ : I'm not really mad at you

 _Tooru_ : I am sorry about embarrassing you

 _Tooru_ : I really shouldn't have said anything

 _Tetsu_ : no you're good like I said more than anything I wanted legitimate feedback

 _Tooru_ : we're good? Even if I am an ass

 _Tetsu_ : we're good.

 _Tetsu_ : ...do you really think I'm cute?

 _Tetsu_ : cause you're hot as fuck dude

 

“I was here early because I was nervous,” Tooru blurts, the moment Tetsurou walks up.

Tetsurou stares at him a moment, and then barks out a laugh. He slides easily into the booth seat across from Tooru, dropping a backpack on the floor at his feet. “No need to be nervous. Just me.”

Tooru pulls his legs up into his seat and hugs them. “That's _why_ I'm nervous.”

“I can talk about cat dicks if that makes you feel better,” Tetsurou offers.

Tooru makes a face. “Better isn't right, but definitely not nervous anymore.”

“I'm nervous too,” Tetsurou says softly. “But probably more because you're so much more out of my league than I expected you to be.”

“Stop that,” Tooru says, scowling.

“Stop what?” Tetsurou's brow quirks, though its half-hidden behind his bangs.

“Being nice to me,” Tooru says. “Feels weird.”

“Just being honest.”

Tooru's scowl deepens. “What do you want me to help you with?”

Tetsurou instantly sobers. He reaches for his bag and tugs out a notebook and pen.

“You're gonna take notes?” Tooru asks incredulously.

“Hell yeah, I am,” Tetsurou says. “Okay, uh... the big one, do you remember if any of the stuff I said during my presentation was wrong?”

Tooru fiddles with the sleeve of his sweater. “Not _wrong_ , per se...” He purses his lips. “More like... applies to a certain group.”

Tetsurou nods, looking expectantly at Tooru.

“Look,” Tooru says with a sigh. “I meant it when I said I shouldn't have called you out. A lot of the shit you said works for a lot of people. There's always tips and tricks to make things _better_ , and for people with really mild cases of depression or whatever, that sort of—basically a lifestyle change—can completely...” Tooru scrambles to find a word other than _fix_ , because he hates that word. “...Reduce the symptoms.

“But the more severe the case, the more it can vary person-to-person. There's not a catch-all solution, and there's probably nothing that will make it totally better. You just sorta live with it, and hopefully as some point you learn to be happy, too.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou breathes out. “Yeah, okay.”

“You don't need to change your presentation,” Tooru says quietly. “It's a good presentation. A lot of students are probably going to get mild depression from the stress of college at least once. The shit you said is the sort of thing that they need to know.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou says. “But what about the people who it doesn't apply for?”

Tooru shrugs. “You need a lot more than a presentation, then.”

“Like?” Tetsurou prompts.

“I dunno,” Tooru grumbles. “Make diagnoses easier. Make medication cheaper. Make it easier for students to make up the work they miss when they can't get out of bed. Sure, it helps to get the word out. But most people who have depression know that something's wrong. I knew for years but part of me was scared of changing anything. I still don't even know why. But it's like you're scared to be better. Part of you thinks you deserve this, for whatever reason.

“So you don't need to inform people they have depression. You need to tell people that help _is_ worth it. That tomorrow doesn't always have to feel like you're suffocating. That tomorrow is something that's actually worth fighting for, and you need to give them the weapons to fight with. I don't think people give up because of depression. People give up because they lose hope.”

Tetsurou scribbles something down. Tooru glances away, trying not to be nosy despite his curiosity.

“You should join us,” Tetsurou says quietly. “I think you could really help us out.”

“Maybe,” Tooru mumbles.

“It's time for coffee,” Tetsurou announces. “You're buying.”

Tooru makes a face at him.

 

“You're on the volleyball team, right?” Tetsurou asks.

Tooru mutters out an affirmative, focused on proofreading the email he's drafting. He's been trying to get in contact with the clinic on campus to petition for free diagnoses for students that would be accepted outside of the university. Because of course Tetsurou got him invested in this, too.

“How is it?”

“Tetsu,” Tooru snaps. “Reading.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tetsurou says, glancing back at his own laptop. He sighs and closes it. “Too much reading... break time.”

“One minute,” Tooru starts to say, but Tetsurou's already reached over and closed Tooru's laptop, too.

Tooru sighs. “Fine, what was the question?”

“Volleyball?” Tetsurou asks pointedly. He gets up to stretch, but his gaze never leaves Tooru.

“It's good,” Tooru says. “I'm not a starter this year. Pinch server. Backup setter. I kinda expected it. But it's good.”

“Just good?” Tetsurou asks.

Tooru shrugs. “I love it, really. But... I think I'm starting to realize that part of my motivation for loving volleyball was beating Ushiwaka. I mean—I still wanna win as much as I can, right? But I think that maybe if I tried to do it as a career, assuming I even could, that I wouldn't like it as much.”

“Sounds like some soul-searching has happened,” Tetsurou observes.

“Maybe,” Tooru says. He scowls. “Then again, it could just be the depression talking. Sometimes it's hard to care about stuff. Ask me again right before a game or something. My answer might change.”

Tooru glances at his laptop and considers opening it to get back to work, but he doesn't want to end the conversation on such a somber note. He glances up at Tetsurou. “What about you? How come you quit?”

“I think, kinda the same,” Tetsurou says. “Maybe because I'm a bit too much of a realist. I don't think I'd ever make it pro. Ushiwaka could. Or Bokuto, or Kageyama, or you.”

Tooru snorts.

“And I love volleyball, but there are other things I love too. I've spent my entire life focusing on volleyball so far, so maybe it's time I try something else for a while.”

Tooru stares at him. “And the other love of your life was chemistry?”

“What can I say,” Tetsurou says. “I wanted to study what we have together.”

Tooru's brow furrows. “Wha... oh my God, Tetsu, please.”

“You sure you're not a dipole?” Tetsurou says, complete with over-exaggerated wink. “Because I think I'm attracted to you.”

“This is work time!” Tooru protests. “We are working!”

“Not now we aren't. Not anymore,” Tetsurou says. “Hey, lets go watch that sci-fy movie that just came out.”

Tooru blinks at him, decides whatever they were doing is entirely irrelevant, and scrambles out of his seat as quickly as possible, shoving his laptop onto his bag.

Tetsurou laughs at him the entire time.

 

 _Tetsu_ : [image]

 _Tetsu_ : we did it!!!

Tooru scans the screenshot Tetsurou sent him. It's an email, from the head of the university clinic, saying he thinks their suggestions for how to improve mental health discussions on campus is a good idea. He wants to meet with them.

 _Tooru_ : thats great

 _Tooru_ : but I don't think it's that easy

 _Tetsu_ : let me have this

 _Tooru_ : sorry

 _Tooru_ : it's good

 _Tooru_ : it's progress

 _Tetsu_ : thank you

 _Tetsu_ : again

 _Tetsu_ : for helping

 _Tetsu_ : i'm sorry if its adding more to your workload

 _Tooru_ : it's okay

Tooru bites his lip, staring at his phone. He regrets sending what he's planning to even before it's actually sent.

 _Tooru_ : it's okay if I get to spend time with you

 _Tetsu_ : wow thats cheesy

 _Tetsu_ : im starting to think you might like me

 _Tooru_ : dunno what gave you that impression

 _Tetsu_ : it was definitely the cat dick conversation

 _Tooru_ : please stop bringing that up

 _Tetsu_ : when's your next game?

 _Tooru_ : friday

 _Tooru_ : why

 _Tooru_ : you're not coming are you

 _Tetsu_ : I definitely am

 _Tooru_ : I'm probably not even going to play

 _Tetsu_ : coming anyway

 _Tooru_ : boo

 _Tetsu_ : boo yourself im being supportive

 _Tooru_ : BOO

 

Of course, _of course_ , this was the time Tooru had to be absolutely, en-fucking-tirely _wrong_. About ten minutes into the game, the starting setter landed bad on a jump, rolled his ankle, and effectively benched himself for the rest of the game.

So Tooru plays the entire time. He knows he can't physically hear Tetsurou cheering from the stands, but it definitely feels like he can. It's a constant presence, in the back of his mind. A bit like how it used to be when he always had Iwaizumi on the court with him, how he always knew he could toss to Iwaizumi in a pinch.

Today is a good day.

They win, seamlessly. Tooru plays and learns and feels _alive_.

And he thinks: I don't want to give this up, ever.

Tetsurou finds him as soon as he emerges from the locker room.

“So,” Tetsurou says, while Tooru still feels the adrenaline of the last point singing in his veins. “How's volleyball?”

Tooru grins, feeling wild and feral and livewire. “It's like _flying_ ,” he says, “And, like a bird, I'll do anything to touch the sky again.”

“There he is,” Tetsurou answers, grinning back. “There's the Oikawa Tooru I know.”

“I'm glad you came,” Tooru says. “I won't be able to remember all the good parts by myself when I call Iwaizumi to brag.”

Tetsurou laughs, and his gaze—ever on Tooru—is clear and happy and affectionate. His voice is still breathy when he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Took you long enough,” Tooru says.

“Shut up,” Tetsurou says, cheeks tinting pink. He grabs Tooru's face, squishing Tooru's cheeks together.

But then he lets go and the touch turns from a grip to a caress. Tetsurou leans forward and presses his lips to Tooru's, and Tooru wishes this is what every moment of every day felt like: happy.

It's only a chaste kiss, something new and tentative, and there will be plenty of time for exploration yet. When Tetsurou pulls back, he's still holding Tooru's cheeks, pinky fingers tucked against the soft skin just under Tooru's jaw. Tetsurou leans his forehead against Tooru's.

“Don't you ever forget this,” he murmurs. “Not the kiss. This feeling. The high. The joy. Don't you ever fucking forget it, okay?”

“Never,” Tooru promises. His gaze flicks down to Tetsurou's lips, and he _wants_ , but that can wait because now there's something he needs to say: “This is the air under my wings. I'm gonna ride it to the clouds.”

“You're so fucking dramatic,” Tetsurou whispers. “Let's go get dinner.”

 

There's a little voice in Tooru's head.

It's a liar, and it hates him, and over time, it's gotten quieter and quieter.

Sometimes, Tooru still lets it get to him. Sometimes he adds a new scar to his thighs. Sometimes he stays in bed for a week.

There are still bad days, and there always will be. But there are still so many things that are more important than the bad days. Tooru has volleyball, and milk bread, and Iwaizumi, and the love of his life.

And a million other things, because he keeps adding to the list.

The weight of the world doesn't seem so unbearable, now.

Tomorrow: Tooru will wake up, kiss Tetsurou's shoulder until he can finally pry the pillow away from on top of his head, and start a new day with _hope_.

That's all he really needs.

 


End file.
